


Sweet as Cherry Wine

by twoshipstiedup



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Mush, Ireland, Love at First Sight, M/M, Romance, as always, side Ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:37:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoshipstiedup/pseuds/twoshipstiedup
Summary: Broken hearts are healed by the luck of the IrishOrLouis and Niall are a mess, Niall’s daughter has a hopeless crush, and Harry is hopelessly clueless





	Sweet as Cherry Wine

“Lou, you alright?”

A loaded question at any time of the day, but especially first thing in the morning. Louis was pretty sure he hadn’t been alright in years. He fixated on a lone, jagged crack in the faded stained glass window wondering if anyone was actually ever ‘alright’

“Sure.” He wiped a cloth over the dusty red corner, shaking it out as he turned around, “You?”

“Mate, if I had to define alright we’d be here all week.”

Case in point.

Louis grinned and tossed the rag over to the bar, meeting sleepy blue eyes that sparkled at him through thick tortoise shell readers.

The irony of the glasses was that Niall, his oldest friend, had habitually wore fake lenses for a large portion of their youth only to be damn near blind by his thirtieth birthday.

Niall thumbed to the stairs at the back of the pub, “I’m just gonna get Martha up for school, do you mind setting up for opening?”

“I think I can handle opening the door, Niall,”

Niall cackled to himself, his boots loud against the creaky eighty something year old stairs.

Louis rolled his eyes as he unlatched the deadbolts, calling out after him, “This is why I only love one Horan!”

He eased the door open, flipping the stopper up with the toe of his worn down Converse high top and squint his eyes up at the sun that had been hiding out for the past couple of weeks. He leaned against the doorway for a moment, breathing in the crisp fall air and closed his eyes completely.

Louis had always loved Ireland.

When they were kids in their preppy boarding school back in London he would come home with Niall for almost every holiday, due to his own family and their often-tumultuous drama. The Horans had always treated Louis as if he were part of the family, even throwing him a coming out party when he finally concluded at sixteen that he was indeed solely into boys. After that revelation, the two of them felt like they were ready to take over the world.

Life, however, had other plans when Niall got a girl pregnant the first week of uni. Their parents insisted that they get married and at that time, they didn’t really have a choice. Though it was not how he expected the supposed greatest years of his life to turn out, Niall had always made the best of things. His wife Sam however, resented every waking moment. So, when Louis should have been knee deep in Irish dick and living out the uni dream, he was instead knee deep in diapers and living out the Horan nightmare.

However, the truth was Louis would never trade it for anything, especially when Sam packed up and left without a forwarding address or an afterthought for her six-year-old daughter. Also known as Martha, the light of Louis’ life.

Nevertheless, Niall pushed on and made it work. After his grandpa Barry passed, god rest his soul, he took over the pub and took the top spot for dad of the year, every year. In Louis’ books anyways.

He never asked for help, even flat out refused it when Louis offered to move in all those years ago. Yet here he was, eight years later, taking Niall up on the very same offer.  

While Niall was dealing with his trouble in Ireland, Louis went back to London to finish his art history degree. After a much longer than anticipated stint making subpar pumpkin spice lattes at Starbucks (a barista he was not), he managed to land his dream job at a high-end gallery in Soho and immediately fell head over heels for the man who had been his first big sale. 

Peter was handsome, smooth, too cool for the coolest of art hipsters and rich beyond Louis’ wildest dreams. He was a real estate developer a couple of years older than Louis, who had a hand in almost every major hot spot in London. If he wanted a rare piece from the Andy Warhol collection, he would whisk them off to New York for the weekend to pick it up. The Brit Awards came with red carpet pictures alongside Elton and Robbie and the most sought after parties. They always had best table at Soho House and Louis was never quite sure if he owned the whole establishment, or just that table. Nothing was out of his reach.

Niall, he had always been wary of the entire thing. “Nothing good can ever come from that much money and power, Lou”.  

They married on the Italian countryside, honeymooned on the Amalfi Coast, and came back to their brand-new Primrose Hill townhouse that Louis had poured his blood, sweat and tears into, creating the perfect shabby chic with a modern twist look. It was pretentious and over the top and paid for by an unlimited black American Express card, which fit Peter’s lifestyle perfectly.  Louis became an exceptional dinner party host, beaming on his husbands arm, laughing along to everyone’s terrible jokes and waving off the ‘you two are the perfect couple’ comments.

Because perfect should only be used to describe something that is _actually_ perfect. Like chocolate cake or David Beckham.

Perfect was certainly not the word Louis would use to describe their marriage, as a couple of months into it he received a phone call from a very annoyed woman in Los Angeles, who also happened to be involved in his marriage. As in, she was Peter’s wife.

After an hour long, eye-opening conversion, Louis had learnt all about Peter’s other marriage, kids and all, and promptly asked for a divorce when Peter set his bags down in the front hallway.

“Louis, babe, that’s an ocean away,”

Louis clenched his fists at his sides, taking in a deep breath. “Aside from the fact that I had no idea you were even into women, I’d prefer not to have a husband with another family, regardless of geography.”

Peter’s shoulders sagged as he trudged over to Louis, searching his eyes. “But I love you,”

Louis sighed, running a hand down his face. “My god Peter, I love you too, I just can’t...do _this_. It’s too much, and quite frankly, Real Housewives proportions of ridiculous.”

Peter just nodded, sniffing quietly, “If that’s what you want.”

Louis threw his hands up. “How the fuck did I end up feeling bad here? Do you know she only called because she was pissed about this house?”

“I guess one of our friends must have said something,”

“Peter, maybe don’t have a fucking wife for anyone to _have_ to say anything to and this wouldn’t be a problem.” He turned on his heel and stomped up their very expensive staircase.

He yanked his suitcase down from the closet and threw it on their bed, the bed he had picked out when Peter had insisted that money was no object. He guessed it wasn’t, because he had turned out be one of Peter’s many.

By the time he had pushed the last pair of jeans into the overflowing case he was a tiny bit hysterical. He slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his legs, letting the tears he had felt burning behind his eyes for the last few hours finally come out.

Peter found him a while later and pet his hair, whispering that he didn’t have to leave, that he could keep the house. While it didn’t make him feel much better that his consolation prize for a shambles of a marriage was prime real estate in an area he most definitely did not fit in, he was comforted by the hefty sum of money he was also granted because he could help pay for his god daughters education.

Small victories, as they say.

He stayed in London long enough to succumb to a month long depression, before Niall was knocking on his door and dragging him back to Dublin.

So, here he was.

He blinked his eyes back open, turning towards the faint voices behind him.

“Morning, Lou,”

Louis clapped his hands and spread his arms, “There she is, the love of my life, the queen of my world!”

Martha snorted, fixing a beanie over her dark mess of curls. “You’re such a knob.”

“Um wrong, your dad and I are totally awesome,”

Niall passed her a backpack, rolling his eyes, “Stop making us sound so old.”

Louis tugged his own beanie off, pointing at the side of his head. “I have like, eighteen grey hairs on this side alone. I _am_ old.”

“What are you counting or something?”

He frowned, inspecting it again in the mirror. “Yes. It’s awful. I also had to buy a back pillow the other day,” he tapped a toe on the floor, “I’m one foot in the grave, I’m telling you.”

Martha made an exasperated noise, slipping her bag over her shoulders. “Bloody hell, you need a boyfriend,”

“Language!” they both hollered in unison.

She rolled her eyes for the ninth time that morning. It was her most Horan trait. “Seriously, Lou. This is sad.”

Louis spun her around by the shoulders, marching her towards the door. “I just got rid of a husband who had a girlfriend. I’m good.”

“I think you mean wife,”

“Okaaay, thank you for the clarification, go to school for fuck’s sake.”

“Language!” She blew a kiss before she turned away to rush off to the bus.

Louis watched her disappear behind the bus doors and shook his head. “She is so your child.”

Niall chuckled as he wiped down the counter. “She’s not wrong, Lou. It’s been over a year. It might be fun to go out,”

He crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes. “Fun for you or me?”

A deep blush crept up on his cheeks as he continued his determined counter cleaning mission, “Well, Sara and Ben have this—

“Ohhh, I see. Saraaaa,” Louis drawled.

Niall and Sara had worked down the road from each other for the last five years and the crush he had been harboring was much sadder than Louis was any day.

“Can you just stop?”

“I cannot in fact.” Louis spread his hands on the bar, eyebrow cocked. “So, where are you making me go?”

He finally paused his vigorous cleaning, slowly bringing his head up to meet Louis’ eyes as he chewed nervously on his lip. “Coppers?”

Louis groaned, slumping onto a stool. “Niall! Coppers? Seriously? We’re in our thirties!”

“Yeah, I know, but it’s their friend’s hen do and I thought it could be fun, so I said we’d go…”

Louis leaned his forehead against the bar, “Oh my god. I’m divorced and gay and you want me to go to the straightest bar on the planet.”

“Yes?”

He peeled himself back up and glared at him, leaning over the bar to pour some beer into a pint glass. Niall watched with amusement as he threw back half of it. “I hate you so much.” He downed the other half, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his flannel. “I can’t believe two thirty something divorcees are going to Coppers for a hen do.”

Niall scratched his chin thoughfully. “Technically I’m not divorced,”

“You Horan’s are getting _real_ technical today.”

Niall smacked him with the towel, dancing a very bad on the spot jig. “Come on, we used to be fun,”

“I like past tense fun Louis. He should stay there.”

He shrugged, clearly giving up on this one sided debate, and plastered on a wide grin as he called out to their first customer of the day, “Hey Bobby, what can I get you?”

Louis glanced down when his pocket started to vibrate, reaching his fingers in his shirt to pull out his phone. His latest message was from Martha.

  - You should take dad out tonight, he’s been kinda down lately. Love you, have a good day xx

He sighed and placed it face down on the bar, wondering when kids got so damn perceptive.

***

Louis was always happy that Niall owned a bar, it was convenient for many reasons, though tonight it was a true blessing because there was no way that he could step foot into the most notoriously messy nightclub in Dublin without being more than a few beers in.

He usually liked to look somewhat put together, after all living in the London ‘scene’ for so long made you want to dress to impress, but nowadays he didn’t have to impress anyone except the two lovely old ladies who came in for their Friday afternoon pints and always complimented his choice of jumpers. That said he used his repressed fashion energy on Niall instead, slipping him into skinny jeans and a colorful button down, cuffing his jeans to show off a hint of the fancy socks he lived for and topped it off with one of Louis’ posh coats.

He hummed in approval, admiring his handy work again in the floor length mirror in their living room. “I must say, I am good,” he turned him around towards Martha, waving a hand up and down his body, “Someone is so going to hit on your dad tonight,”

She mimed some over exaggerated vomiting, but Louis saw the glimmer of love in her eyes.

Niall bit back a laugh as he slipped into his boots. He nodded over to Louis, “By the way, why are you dressed like Bryan Adams in the eighties?”

Louis glanced down, running his hands down his jean jacket and blinked at his similarly colored jeans. “Oh.” He shrugged, “Ah well, fuck it. I’m just there for the drinks anyways.”

Martha looked up from her phone with a scoff, “Oh come off it, flirt with some girls. That’s part of the whole hen do experience, it won’t kill you.”

Louis knocked his elbow into Niall’s shoulder, “Oi, you hear this? What are they teaching her at that school?”

“I think that’s pretty common knowledge, Lou,”

“Where?”

Martha hopped off the couch, shaking her head at him. “You literally sound sixty years old,” she kissed both their cheeks, patting them afterwards. “Behave yourselves.”

Niall pulled her in for hug, kissing the top of her head. “Will do kiddo, love ya.” He hesitated, pausing in front of her. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

She shoved him towards the door, “I will be fiiine. Uncle Paulie is working tonight, I’m gonna go down and help him in a bit. Everything is all good, now please for the love of god, go and have FUN!”

…

A short while later Louis stood under the pulsing lights and watched Niall down three jagerbombs in a row with a mix of admiration and horror. He was definitely well on his way to having fun.

It wasn’t quite as awful as Louis had remembered it, though he figured that mostly had to do with the company they were keeping. Sara and Ben had always been fun girls; two tiny fiery red heads that could drink them both under the table any night of the week, who they had hung out with periodically over the years due to the proximity of their businesses. Which was why Louis could not understand for the life in him how Sara and Niall had not yet made a love connection.

He said as much to Ben, who nodded as she nursed her Corona, “I know, it’s maddening! They obviously like each other; I just don’t know what else we have to do to kick start this thing,”

Louis glanced at them, noting their apprehensive body language, but the looks on their faces said ‘just fucking kiss me already’. “Do you think it has anything to do with Martha?”

Ben shook her head immediately, “No, never, she loves Martha.” She turned to face Louis straight on, a serious note to her eyes. “Do you think it has anything to do with the fact his wife left him and he hasn’t gotten over that?”

A pained laugh escaped his lips. “Fuck, yeah. There is always that, isn’t there,”

“Does he ever talk about it?”

He observed Niall again, the tinkling of his laugh sounding out over the music. His smile was genuine, but Louis could always see that hint of sadness in his eyes. That was what made his heart ache for him. “No, not really. Niall’s a keeper of the peace. He puts everyone’s happiness before his own; he has always been like that. He’s the best, the biggest heart ever,”

Ben was smiling knowingly at him. “You know he basically said the same thing about you when you were gone. He missed you a lot when you were in London,”

“Yeah, I missed him too. In hindsight I should have stayed, it would have saved me a whole lot of trouble.”

She covered her mouth, giggling into her hand as she passed Louis another pint. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t laugh,”

“No really please do, it is _extremely_ ridiculous. I’m glad I finally can now.” He tipped the edge of his glass to her, “Listen, I’m not one to gossip about my friends, but, if the information could be useful to said friends happiness, then I will tell you this. I think he feels that he’s failed Martha and himself by not being able to make the marriage work and that’s so untrue. She is the best kid, she loves her dad, and she knows that he would do anything, and has done anything for her. She wants him to be happy,” he paused a minute, finding the next words, because, deep down he knew he meant himself as well. “He’s scared, is all.”

She clinked her bottle to his glass. “We can totally work with this, Louis.”

“I think so too. Let’s have like, a dinner party? Something relaxed, with a few friends and—

“Lots of wine,”

“Yes, _a lot_ of wine. I’ve heard that helps.”

They laughed, celebrating with another cheers, while Louis scanned the room. He landed on a man that had just sauntered up to their group, and this man had him tugging on Ben’s sleeve. “Who in the hell is the guy that just stumbled out of a Versace magazine ad?”

Ben leaned over to scope out the scene and shook her head up to the ceiling, patting his back. “Calm down tiger. That’s Zayn, he coincidentally does work for a magazine, and he is happily married to our friend Liam, who is out of town this weekend.”

“I am calm,” he grumbled. He was. Louis was not in the market for anything remotely art related. He mostly could not believe that there were actually people out there who looked like they themselves should be art on display in the Louvre.

He bumped her shoulder, nodding towards the door, “I’m gonna pop outside for a minute.”

She flicked her eyes over his pockets, giving him an imaginary pat down. “Niall is going to kill you if you’re smoking again,”

“I’m not! I’m going to make a quick phone call, I’ll be right back.”

He turned on his heel, practically running towards the steps that lead outside so he could be as far away from his lie as possible.

Once he met the cool air, he fished out his lighter and the lone cigarette he had stashed in pocket of his jeans. He lit up, sucked in a cloud of nicotine, and practically purred. It truly was his best worst habit. He flicked the ashes to the ground, pacing the sidewalk in a circle. He knew that he should quit cold turkey, because he told himself it was only a pack a week habit, and therefore would be easy. However, if he were being honest, the ashtray he had hidden in a bush outside the pub told a two pack a week story.

He walked a little further away from the entrance, gazing down at the scuffed up toes of his Doc Martens. When he rose his head back up his eyes fell upon a guy that was slumped against the red bricked wall; his head tipped back and his eyes very much closed. His mouth was slightly parted open, and even from where Louis stood he could tell that they were a lovely shade of pink.

He moved a step closer with another pull on his cigarette, because there was something in the way the moonlight that was hitting his face that made Louis unable to look away. That, and the fact that there was a good possibility he was having a nap.

“Uh hey, are you asleep out here?”

His eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly as he ran a hand through the messy curls that were sticking to his forehead from the misty rain. Louis immediately wanted another cigarette, because the one that he currently had was almost out, and making conversation with beautiful strangers always felt easier when there was something to occupy your mouth.

He blinked his eyes a few more times, his lips gradually turning up. “Maybe,” he scrubbed a hand over his face, his grin turning sheepish. “I’m a bit knackered, I only meant to close my eyes for a minute.”

Louis laughed, flicking his only salvation to the ground to stomp out. “Alright, I just didn’t want to leave you here without checking, it’s really not the safest place, nor the most comfortable for a nap.”

He laughed as well, pushing himself off the wall. “Thanks, my friends would kill me if I didn’t even make it in there tonight. I just got off work, so,”

So indeed. Louis wasn’t sure why he needed that information, but he nodded along anyways. He drew his eyes over his clothes, all which were quite nice and pricey looking, trying to guess what he and his friends would be there for. “Big night out to pull?”

As soon as he said it, he wanted to kick himself. This was the reason cigarettes came in handy, to avoid stupid commentary such as this.

His nose wrinkled up, probably in distaste from Louis assuming he was a douche bro. “Not quite.”

“Huh.” Louis fidgeted with a button on his jacket wondering what ‘not quite’ meant.

“And you?”

Louis startled back to attention, pointing a finger at his chest. “Me?”

He remained there with an expectant smile.  

Duh, right. “Oh yeah, my friends are here for a hen do. I myself am here to monitor everyone’s behavior while drinking overpriced beer,”

 A goofy honk of a laugh came out of his mouth. “Oh cool, me too. Tis the season,” he looked like he wanted to say something else, but stopped himself. “Well maybe I’ll see you in there,”

“Cool, yeah.”

Louis tried to be even cooler by not letting his eyes linger on him while he walked away, but, he failed.

He did however wait the appropriate amount of time to go back in so it did not look like he was intentionally following in the beautiful stranger.   

Upon entry back into his own personal hell he was accosted by Niall, who handed him a Stella with one hand and smacked him on the back of the head with the other. “I will pay you fifty million dollars to quit smoking, I swear to fucking god,”

“Niall, you barely have twenty dollars to pay me.” Louis sucked in a breath as soon as the words came out of his mouth. This was clearly his night for verbal diarrhea to run rampant. “I didn’t mean it like that,"

“Lou, its fine. I know you were joking.” Louis searched his eyes, and he genuinely didn’t look bothered, though he could probably thank the jager for that. It wasn’t that money was a bone of contention between them, or that Louis didn’t share the wealth he had, he just knew it was a sore topic with Niall in general and sometimes Louis’ big fat mouth needed to be shut. Niall, being as perceptive as he was, slung an arm over his shoulders, guiding him towards the bar. “Come on moneybags, buy me some shots.”

He supposed that in this moment, they were, alright.

…

Louis instantly regretted that thought a mere half hour later when it was very clear that it was time for Niall to go home. The rest of the party had moved upstairs while they were at the bar and the girls had wandered off long ago, finding some men to dance with that could string full sentences together, and Louis was afraid that had led to the inhuman amount of shooters Niall ingested.

Now they were at the point where he was physically restraining Niall from trying to get back to the bar while he dragged him towards the entrance.

“Oh hey, wait!”

Louis turned, eyes dragging up the torso of the pal he had made earlier. Said pal was smiling big and pretty, and had not spared a thought for his shirt buttons, because there were only three of them doing their actual job holding together his sheer animal print shirt.

“Hi, I, umm, I didn’t get your name before, sorry,”

He froze. Here he was being blinded by wild curls, vibrant eager eyes and oh yes, his name. “It’s Louis…” he trailed off waiting for the rest of the question.

“Louis! Nice to meet you Louis, so we’re playing this really stupid game and I feel like we have this circle of trust we developed earlier, what with you not wanting me to die outside and oh, I’m Harry by the way! And yes, so like—

Louis watched his hands flail around, his eyes wide and slightly glossy, and he caught the faint smell of the lemony shots he must have consumed before this diatribe. He was honestly an unfairly attractive drunk. Niall on the other hand had his arm slung over his shoulders, using Louis’ body weight in an attempt to hold himself upright as he sung Irish tunes at the top of his lungs. Not attractive in the least.

“Harry, so nice to meet you again for real this time, and I do hate to interrupt but I need to get this wee Irish fellow home before he turns into a shamrock. What can I help you with?”

Harry’s eyes widened, a curl wilting down onto his forehead. He blew it away, hands waving about again. “Right, umm the thing is, I need to kiss someone, very G rated I promise, it’s on this hen do list and—

“I’ll do it!”

Niall, fucking _Niall_ was now on full alert and launching himself at a shocked and flustered Harry.

The first attempt honestly looked painful, and it was definitely their heads colliding that solidified that statement. Niall then grabbed the back of his neck and planted a sloppy kiss on his actual lips, and Louis was only a tiny, tiny bit jealous.

He reached over to pull Niall off by the scruff of his jacket, sending Harry an apologetic look. “He’s had a long day and about sixty jagerbombs,” he smacked Niall on the forehead, “And you, aren’t you supposed to be kissing Saraaaa,”

“Stop saying her bloody name like that, it’s so annoying!”

Louis knew what the definition of annoying was, and right now in that moment it was Niall Horan.

Niall’s shoulders slumped in defeat, “Besides, she’s already made off with some other dudes and I have to go home to my kid anyways.”

Harry, still standing there in a daze, came back to life, swinging his head back and forth between them. “He has a kid?”

“Surprisingly, yes.”

Harry suddenly snapped his fingers, his eyes lighting up, “Wait, wait, this is Niall? Sara’s Niall?”

Louis’ eyebrows almost raised straight through the roof. “ _Sara’s_ Niall? This is quite a development.” A very interesting development indeed he thought to himself. “How do you know Sara?”

“A friend of a friend.”

Louis was slightly miffed that no one’s thought to bring this otherworldly human around until now. “So, we were at the same party then,”

Harry smiled. “It seems we were. What kind of fate, hey?” He assessed them again with a giggle. “I can’t believe this is him, the famous Niall Horan,”

Louis grasped his chin, wiggling it with no protest as Niall was back to being incoherent. “I can only assume this is not how you pictured meeting him.”

Harry rubbed a hand along the back of his neck, craning it to the side with a wince, “I think he might have thrown my back out a bit.”

Louis didn’t want to tell him that was usually a good thing where he’s from. He hoisted Niall back up under his arm, thumbing behind him, “I should probably get going, this one is fading fast.”

“I should get back too. I’ve only got about one more drink left in me,” he waved a piece of crumpled paper in front of him, “and thank Niall for helping me out.”

“Absolutely.” He raised his hand up, a small pull of disappointment in his stomach, “I guess I’ll see you around, Harry.”

“I guess you will.”

He finally let out the breath he was holding and weaved their way outside, piling Niall into the first available cab.

If he thought about disheveled curls, miles of pale skin and pretty pink lips for at least half the ride that was his business.

…

They got back to the pub and successfully made their way up to the apartment, though not without Niall trying to stop by the bar for a ‘quick pint’. Paulie shot him the look that had scared the bejesus out of them when they were kids that clearly still worked as somewhat functioning adults, because Louis had never seen Niall give up on a beer so quickly before.

Louis kicked off his boots, collapsing on the couch with Niall following suit, landing directly on top of him. His face ended up plastered against his neck, with the added bonus of his sweaty fringe in Louis’ mouth. He pushed him off with a grunt, “Didn’t you get your fill of men tonight?”

“Wha?”

Louis plucked the fuzzy pink pillow out from behind his back and threw it at him. “You kissed their friend Harry, moron. You know him right?”

The pillow bounced off his head as Louis watched the many phases of drunken confusion pass over Niall’s face until he finally grasped onto a thought. “Har…Harry…oh yeah, Sara’s friend,” he chewed on a thumbnail, sending Louis a questioning look. “I did?” Louis nodded solemnly. “Damn. Lucky me. He’s hot.”

“What?!”

They both jumped, clutching their hands to their chests, turning towards the screeching commotion of Martha racing out of her room. “Who kissed Harry? Library Harry?”

“Your dumb dad did,” he furrowed his eyebrows, confused. “What does library Harry mean?”

“He works at Trinity,”

Wow, okay. Louis did not realize that librarians could look like Harry. “How do you even know this?”

She sat down next to Niall, leaning his head on her shoulder. “We hang out there after school sometimes and oh my god Lou, he _literally_ has a fan club. I mean we do our homework, but really, we’re mostly staring at Harry,”

“What the hell, Niall are you listening to this?”

She sighed, squishing further into the couch. “Whatever, he is like, so dreamy.”

“You kids need to join a sport or something and get your hormones in check.”

“Oh I’m fine checking them at the library,” she said with a smirk that was much too devilish for a fourteen year old.  

Niall, who should actually be the one scolding her finally perked up from his jager slumber. “Ha, my kid, she’s a firecracker.”

“Honestly, how am I parenting both of you tonight?”

Niall rolled his head towards Louis, poking a finger in his side, “Didn’t he want to kiss you anyways? I guess I totally cock blocked you, sorry mate.”

Martha squealed, clapping her hands together, “Seriously?! Tell me everything!” She planted herself on the coffee table in front of Louis, bouncing excitedly. “We’ve always wondered if he had a boyfriend, cause there was this guy that would come meet him after work and he like brought him flowers and stuff, but we could never tell, and wow my own god father, this is so exciting!” She gave Niall’s knee a light pinch, “Dad, why were you cock blocking Lou and Harry!”

Louis stared at her eager face, dumbfounded. He was in the twilight zone. That was what he came home to. “There were no cocks to be blocked. We had talked outside earlier in the night when I was uh…making a phone call,”

“Cigarettes can make phone calls _and_ kill you? I did not know of this advance in technology, Lou.”

Louis nudged Niall's sleep heavy body. "Can’t she go to bed?”

“Nope. I need more answers,”

Louis eased up to his feet, ruffling her hair. “Fine, I’ll go. However, there is nothing to tell. He seems like a nice guy, who I will be talking to again about how he needs to enforce a no go to certain people at the library.”

She stuck her tongue out at his back. He didn’t need to see it to know it was there. “You’re no fun old man,”

“This is what I keep trying to tell everybody.” He knocked the frame of his door, “Night’ you nuts.”

He shut it behind him and leaned against it, listening to their muffled voices for a beat.

“Maybe we should join a bowling league or something, you really shouldn’t be stalking the library staff,”

Louis fell to his bed face first and laughed until his stomach ached.

***

Niall was up at an ungodly hour because genetically, hangovers were not possible. He made them a full Irish breakfast and while Louis cleaned up the kitchen, he found himself wondering if Harry was working that day. _Of course_ he only wondered because he wanted to kick-start the Niall and Sara plan, it was definitely not to partake in the ogling of any fit librarians.

This was how he ended up on the vast campus grounds of Trinity College, scratching his head about where to begin his search. He took note of a tour group standing a few feet away from him and decided to follow closely behind them. Blending in would somehow make him seem less idiotic than he felt trying to spot the face of a guy he had only just met mere hours ago.

He managed to find the way to the library but when he passed the same colorful bookshelf for the third time in a row, he got the inkling that he was a little lost. That was until an unmistakable head of curls fell into his scope of vision. He was somehow looked even better than he remembered, hunched over an enormous tattered looking book, forehead wrinkled deep in thought.

As Louis got closer he could see that Harry was dressed in dark brown tweed accompanied by a soft pink t-shirt which had the logo of a band on it that Louis was much too in his thirties to comprehend. Even though Louis didn’t know him, something about it felt so distinctly Harry. Thick black framed glasses were perched on his nose and his hair was in disarray, seemingly from him repeatedly running his hands through it. It painted quite the picture, one that Louis would hang in his own personal gallery.

When he looked around at the surrounding tables, he could see that there were various other people sneaking a glace in his general direction.

“Wow, you really do have a fan club,”

Harry dropped the pencil he was teetering between his teeth, bouncing up to his feet in surprise. “Louis, hi! What I… uh, what?”

“Hey yourself,” he flicked a look over his shoulder, “Your fan club. Seriously, do you see that girl in the corner over there? That page has not turned in at least five minutes, but I bet there are a shitload of hearts on her binder with your name in it,”

He blushed so hard, even the tip of his nose was dotted red. He blew out a breathy, awkward laugh. “I really doubt that.”

“Did you want me to check?”

“Please don’t.”

Louis also wanted to tell him that there were a few adults doing a lap around the library with their jaws dropping every time they passed by his desk as well. He had to wonder if Harry ever looked in a mirror, though the state of his hair was leaning towards no.

Harry picked up his wayward pencil, slipping into his jacket pocket, which somehow completed his nerdy (and hot) librarian look. “So what brings you in, did you come to see an exhibit?”

Louis shook his head, “I was just out stretching my legs. I get antsy if I’m in the pub for too long. I’m like a dog, I need a daily walk.” He smacked an invisible hand to his forehead. Why does he say the stupidest shit around this man?

It earned him a lovely smile though. “Oh, you work at the pub as well?”

“Yes and no.” Louis didn’t want to get into that whole thing, that thing being him not really having to work and that he only hangs around the pub because he has nothing better to do.

Harry had no follow up questions to his extremely vague answer, just the same unwavering grin. “Okay, well, welcome. Can I help you find anything, or did you just want to walk around?”

Louis indicated towards the bustling hall, “Walk with me? I actually came by to ask you something as well. Martha, Niall’s daughter, mentioned you worked here,”

Harry came around the desk, lips pursed. “Really? I don’t think I’ve met her before?”

Louis noted the matching tweed trousers that were cuffed at the ankle to show off his cream Comme de Garcons high tops, and thought he would look right at home in Louis’ former Soho life. “You haven’t, but she and her friends come in here after school to drool over you. She looks just like Niall though, so you can at least put a name to the face of what I think is your fan club president,”

Harry slapped a hand over his mouth, hiding a mortified smile. “Seriously, stop, you’re embarrassing me,”

“Harry, I am merely the messenger. Speaking on that, I wanted to invite you to a dinner party we’re having on Wednesday. We are all desperately trying to get Niall and Sara to acknowledge the fact that they are head over heels for each other, so Ben and I thought we should have a little get together with a lot of wine. What do you think?”

“I think wine solves most problems,”

“That’s what I said.” They slowed down their steps, stopping in a quieter section of the hall, the haze of the afternoon sun shining through the floor to ceiling windows, making Harry’s eyes look a soft mossy green. A hot, nerdy, angelic Librarian. Louis needed a cigarette. “So, you’ll come? You can bring someone, if that would make you more comfortable. I mean you don’t really know us, though I suppose you know Niall now, perhaps a little too well,”

He gave him a funny look, absently pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Uh thanks. And I'd love to,”

“Great! Obviously, you know where we live, just come up the stairs at the back of the pub. Say, sevenish?”

Harry examined him with another a curious once over, lips curved up to one side. “That works for me.”

They stared at each other for one time stopping moment until they both realized what they were doing and shook out of it. Louis shoved his hands in his pockets, slapping on his best crinkly-eyed smile. “Anyways, I’ll let you get back to work, I’m sure the books don’t shelve themselves.”

Off went the honking laugh. “Sadly, they do not.” He coughed after, looking slightly embarrassed again. “See you Wednesday, Louis,”

Louis kind of wanted to hug him.

“Looking forward to it.”

He forced himself to walk away before he did or said any more dumb things, losing his way again trying to find the exit. A mind full of Harry clearly wasn’t good for his navigational skills.

There was a grey fog blanking the city when he finally made it back outdoors, bringing with it the fine, misty rain that usually pissed Louis off – he liked confident weather, if you’re going to rain, you better pour.

However, being around Harry stirred a fire inside him that he had not felt in a long, long time. It was slightly unnerving.

He welcomed the much needed cool down.

…

When he got back to the pub Niall was sat at the corner of the bar fixated on his daily crossword puzzle. He took a sip of his pint, looking up to meet Louis’ determined eyes.  

“We’re having a dinner party on Wednesday,”

“Why?”

Louis placed his hands on his hips, “Because that’s what adults do, and Sara and Ben are coming. And Harry. And maybe Harry’s date.”

Niall turned in his seat, “Why is he bringing a date?”

Louis tapped his foot, getting increasingly more annoyed. “Because I told him to,”

“What? Why would you tell him to do that?”

He let out a garbled noise. “What is this, the Spanish inquisition?” He pointed at Martha who had just walked into his interrogation, tossing her bag onto the counter as she slid onto a stool. “Why didn’t you mention that Harry wears glasses?”

“Was I supposed to?” Martha looked at Niall for help, who just twirled a finger around the side of his head whispering ‘he’s losing it’

“It’s just—I’ll be back,”

He hurried out the front door and over to his trusty bush to pull out his secret stash. He sat on the dampened sidewalk, ignoring the way it soaked through his jeans and lit the first cigarette from his second pack of the week. He let his neck fall backwards and blew a stream of smoke up to the murky purple sky, puffing away the urge to stick his hand down his pants and wank off to the image of Harry spread out on a pile of library books in nothing but his glasses, that sweet mouth begging Louis to touch him.

He sighed, hanging his head back down in shame.

This, this was why he told him to bring a date.

…

He stealthily snuck back into the apartment in an effort to avoid his second no smoking intervention in the past 24 hours, and locked himself in his room so he could Netflix away all of his confusing feelings.

It wasn’t that Harry hadn’t sparked his interest; he more or less lit a giant fuse of interest. Louis just couldn’t be sure if he was ready for the terrifying and unpredictable world of dating again. In his mind, it was easier for Harry to be unavailable, and maybe he already was.

However…

Despite his best efforts, he wanked anyways because he was only human and it wasn’t his fault that glasses were his weakness.

He would go back to his solitary single life and leave this behind him tomorrow.

***

Wednesday arrived faster than anticipated and Louis was not up to his regular dinner party host standards. For someone who had all of the time in the day to do whatever he wanted, of course on this night he was somehow running behind. He was ashamed that he wouldn’t be able to create the perfect centerpiece to complete his pristine fall themed dinner table. 

A tap on the door sounded out, followed by Ben poking her head in, “Ello, ello, the party has arrived!! I brought some friends, I hope that’s okay?”

Louis peered up from his place settings expecting to come face to face with Harry and some devastatingly handsome hipster in matching glasses, but instead it was Mr. Versace himself, Zayn, and a kind eyed lumberjack looking fellow. “The more the merrier, that is the Horan motto,”

They all held two bottles of wine, making their way into the living room to greet their host. Ben had a hand on Zayn’s back, guiding him in, “I don’t think you got much of a chance to talk the other night, but this is Zayn and his husband Liam,”

They offered the wine first and then a handshake, which was Louis’ favorite kind of priority. “Nice to meet you both. Ben mentioned you were out of town for work the other night, Liam?”

He clasped Louis’ hand with a bright smile, “Yeah, I was in LA for work, I heard it was fun though, I’m sad I missed it.”

Louis nodded with a laugh. “It was definitely something. Can I get everyone a drink? Beer, wine,” they all held up with their second bottle of wine, shaking it as an answer. Louis gave a thumbs up, “Lovely. Make yourselves at home. Niall should be out in a minute, he’s only changed a hundred times in the last hour even though I laid out an outfit for him.”

There was another tap of the door with the guest of honor indicating her arrival. “Knock knock,”

“Who’s there?”

“Sara and Harry!”

“Sara and Harry who?”

“Shut the fuck up and get me a wine, Lou!”

He clutched his heart, “Wow, I’m hurt. Coming right up.”

He quickly glanced over his shoulder on the way to the kitchen noting that it was just Sara and Harry, and that Harry was in a different pair of glasses, similar to Niall’s, which he had paired with a forest green cable knit jumper and dark skinny jeans. Louis admired an eclectic sense of style, though he himself was dressed as if he was thirteen all over again in skinny brown cords and a black zip up hoody. His pizza-adorned socks, which were a gift from Niall, really completed the look.

“Hey all, you made it!”

Louis listened to Niall greet everyone and heard him complimenting the girls on how lovely they looked. Louis groaned. He could have at least pulled Sara aside and given her a private hello and complement, surely he had some game deep down in there, it couldn’t be lost forever.  

He gathered a handful of glasses that he had left on the countertop, passing them over to Niall when he got back to the table. “Lou put together a fucking _spread_. Homemade pizza and a couple of different salads, so I hope everyone came to eat, drink and be merry,”

He nodded, twisted the cork out of the bottle of Syrah he had between his thighs. “There are a couple of options, plus a veggie gluten free, cause you can never be too sure these days,”

Ben whistled, “Wow Louis that’s really impressive.” The rest of them nodded along in agreement. “Where did you learn to do all this?”

“Oh, here and there.”

His Italian honeymoon didn’t feel like the right answer at the moment.

Niall hopped up to grab the pizzas, finally getting something right when he offered Sara the first choice. They passed the food around, chattering amongst themselves, and Louis already felt the warmth growing in his belly from the silky red he had been sipping. He winked at Harry when he caught his wandering eye. Harry bit back a grin and smiled down at his plate, carefully spearing a cherry tomato.

Louis picked up a slice of red pepper, waving it in a circle. “Liam, what is it that you do?”

Liam dotted his mouth with a napkin, folding it back down onto his lap. “I’m a record producer, so I travel a lot for work,” He linked a pinky with the one that was on the table next to him. “Zayn works from home, but flies out to London every other week when he’s needed at the magazine.”

“That must be hard, being away from each other that much?”

Liam shrugged, smiling softly at his husband. “No, we make it work,”

Zayn leaned in to peck him on the mouth, “Ten years and counting babe.”

Liam reached out for another slice of pizza that Niall held out in offering. “Plus we trust each other. No secret family that I know of yet,”

Louis choked on his wine, while Niall sent him an alarmed look. Harry quickly placed a glass of water in front of him, darting his eyes around to take in both the curious stares and knowing faces.

“All good, I think my salad is trying to kill me, probably because it’s the first one I’ve put in my mouth in a long while,”

Thankfully, Martha arrived just in time to squash the marriage talk.

“Hey kiddo how was the movie?”

“It was alright, lots of blood and guts, your favorite of course,”

Niall grimaced. “It really isn’t. Did you want some food?”

She hesitated, shuffling further inside the room. “You don’t mind?”

Niall waved her over, “Of course not, come meet everyone.” She ambled up to the table, leaning into Louis’ side as Niall started the introductions. “You know Sara and Ben of course, and this is Liam and Zayn,” she waved hi, her eyes widening as she traced them over Zayn’s face. They continued over to Harry and that finally brought on the close to fire engine red cheeks.

“And you know Harry,”

She dug her nails into Louis’ side as payback. “I don’t…well, I mean, I’ve seen you at the library,”

Louis wiggled his eyebrows at Harry, who steadfastly ignored him. He gave her a warm smile. “Lovely to meet you, Martha.”

Niall squeezed her arm. “M, why don’t you go pick an album out with Harry,”

“Umm…sure, okay.” She shot them both a death glare before marching over to the coveted collection.

Harry pushed up from the table, padding over to the record shelf, hands on his hips. “This is impressive,”

She peered up at him, still blushing furiously. “Did dad make you listen to the entire Eagles catalogue already?”

“He did indeed.”

She pushed aside the empty sleeve of Hotel California, wrinkling her nose. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry laughed. “Its fine, I could never be mad about hearing Heartache Tonight.” He clasped his chin, nodding down, “I like your jumper by the way, American Apparel?”

She gaped at him. “Yes, how did you know?”

He leaned in with a whisper, “I may have the same one.”

She giggled in her sleeve, nodding back at him. “I like yours too,”

“Thank you! It’s Gucci, and my mother would kill me if she knew how much money I spent on it, so let’s keep it our little secret,”

Louis watched this exchange with as much awe as Martha was currently in. How this man had no clue that anyone who has ever stepped foot into his workplace was in love with him was beyond his comprehension.

Harry bobbed his head along to the music, flipping through the alphabetical stacks. “Your dad really does have everything, this is amazing,”

“Aside from the Eagles, he’s pretty cool.”

Harry smiled to himself at that. He pulled out a cover, handing it over to Martha. “Can I go with Hall and Oates, or is that too uncool?”

She held the record to her chest, a starry-eyed look on her face. “It’s cool.”

Like she would say otherwise.

Louis thought this would be the perfect time to chocolate himself to death. “Dessert?”

He received a unanimous ‘yes please!’ in answer.

“Wait, I’ll come help you,”

Harry followed him into the kitchen, leaning against the counters while Louis pulled some ice cream out of the freezer.

He gathered the cutlery and plates, handing the stack over to Harry, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t bring anyone,”

“I brought Sara.”

“Being cute, are we?"

He rolled his eyes, softening his gaze. “No, honestly I broke up with someone about a month ago. And I’m just…I’m fine being here and enjoying my friends’ company. And yours too of course,”

“Well, I’m honored.”

“Martha is really sweet,”

“Yeah she is. The love of my life that girl,” he smirked, “I used to be the love of hers, but,”

Harry moved the plates aside, giving him a friendly shove, “Bugger off.”

He held up his hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, I’ll be serious for like one minute. You can time me.”

Harry puffed out a laugh, bringing his wine glass up lips, darting his tongue out to capture a runaway drop. Louis wanted to look away. His own wine seemed to be going to his head, as it was making him wish he were that glass. Maybe he could come back as one in his next life and only be drank out of by obscenely good-looking librarians.

In the midst of his internal debate on if he should be stemless or not Harry asked the inevitable question, tipping his wine glass towards him. “What about you? Are you dating?”

Louis shook his head, hopefully not as dramatic as it had seemed in his mind. “Nope.”

Harry paused for a moment, thoughtful. “Do you—

“Hey! What’s the holdup, are you auditioning for bake off in there?”

Louis straightened up, grabbing the platter of brownies and cupcakes to balance on top of his container of ice cream. “Right, we better,”

“Right, yeah,”

Louis rounded the corner with a ‘ta da’ and decided the only way to pay Niall back for interrupting him and Harry yet again was to smash a cupcake into his face.

Though with Louis wanting to drink him up like his sweet Syrah, it was probably for the best.

…

Niall waved as he shut the door, “Goodnight all, thanks for coming!” It clicked shut, and he turned to lean against it, smiling down at his feet.

The smile was infectious, Louis feeling his own as well as he gathered up the dessert plates. “You had fun then?”

He walked over to the table and plopped down in a chair, grabbing another cupcake. “I did. Thanks for doing this,”

Louis felt energized. He loved a love connection, especially one that was years in the making. “Anything for you my prince,” he passed the last cupcake to Martha, who had succumbed to her social media after there was no more Harry to make googly eyes over. “And what about the president of the Harry Styles fan club?”

She finally looked up from her phone, eyes rolling, “Ha ha.” She traced a fingertip through the baby pink icing, cocking her head curiously. “Do you like him?”

Louis fumbled with the plate in his hand. “I already told you he was nice,”

Martha blew out an impatient huff. “That’s it?”

“I guess so.”

“Lame.”

It was lame.

But it was a better answer than the Ted Talk he would have liked to give about Harry’s hands.

She finished the rest of the icing, leaving the naked shell of a cupcake behind. “Okay, I’m going to bed.”

They tilted their cheeks up to get their standard goodnight kiss before she wandered off to her room.

“It is lame you know,”

Louis slid onto a chair, leaning over to top up Niall’s wine, eyebrow raising in question. “What is?”

“That’s all you have to say about Harry?”

Louis sighed, slumping back in defeat. “He isn’t just nice, he’s perfect.”

Niall hummed knowingly. “Like chocolate cake or David Beckham,”

“Exactly.” Louis picked at the remains of Martha’s cupcake, wiping the crumbs on his jeans, “And I don’t know how I want to deal with that yet.”

Niall simply nodded. “Okay.”

From one scared person to another, he understood.

A flush curled high on Niall’s cheeks as he barreled on. “But, tonight really was great and…Sara and I are going to have dinner on Friday, if you don’t mind hanging with Martha?”

Louis fist pumped in his mind because doing it for real would be another lame thing to add to his long list tonight.

“Okay.”

***

Because it was a beautiful fall day and Louis lived to torture himself, he once again ended up on the library grounds. He stared up at the entrance with a shake of his head. “What am I doing?”

He took his time meandering through the dimly lit halls, wrapping himself in the peaceful nature of the library, hoping that maybe this extended time alone with his thoughts could lead to figuring out why he was compelled to come here again so soon.

When he stumbled upon Harry giving on animated speech to a group of heart eyed ten year olds in dark trousers, a soft dove grey cardigan and red framed glasses that were slipping down his nose with every fervent hand gesture, he knew he had his answer.

He stood off to the side of the group to take in the scene that could only be described as’ too fucking cute’ for words. When Harry finally met his eyes, Louis gave him a little wave, which caused his dimples to deepen even further. It was a lot imagery to process.   

Louis stepped in closer once he was finished, with Harry coming to meet him halfway, arms folded over his chest and a grin on his face. “Out for your daily walk?”

Louis groaned, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “God, you make me sound so old,”

Harry giggled, shaking his head. “You’re not old.”

“Tell that to my eighteen grey hairs.”

He drew his eyes up and down Louis’ profile. “That’s oddly specific,”

“Don’t I know it, love.”

Harry dropped his arms, mirroring Louis’ stance. “Thank you again for dinner. I had a great time.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I was somewhat famous for my dinner parties back in London, so it’s kind of nice to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

Harry looked at him curiously. “Sounds interesting,”

Louis massaged the side of his neck with a tight laugh, “To say the very least.”

Harry glanced down at his watch and back at Louis. “I’m off in twenty minutes or so. Maybe you could tell me about it over a pint? If you’re not busy that is,”

He could be busy. And he _should_ be busy.

“No, I’m not busy.”

…

That was how he found himself tucked away in the back of the Long Hall giving Harry the sordid details of his past over a creamy pint and very dim lighting.

Harry took a long sip, wiping the mustache that followed away with his thumb. “So…your husband… was married,”

“Yes.”

“To a woman,”

“Uh huh.”

“And they had kids,”

Louis smacked his lips together after taking his own long sip. “Yep.”

Harry dragged a hand through his already messy and wilted quiff of hair for about the tenth time since they sat down. Louis was afraid he’d have none left by the end of this. And that, would be a crime.

“But, how do you even…how do you…I don’t…” he scratched his head again, at a loss for words.

Louis chuckled, leaning over to pat his hand and soothe his adorable distress. “People who are up to shady shit always find a way, Harry.”

He frowned, shuffling his chair closer, his voice low. “I would have punched him square in the nose.”

Louis coughed and sputtered on a sip of his pint. He blinked a few times to check his eyesight, because the look on Harry’s face was that of a very angry…kitten. Somehow, this was only making him even more attractive.

“If it makes you feel better, taking his money so my god daughter can have the best education possible was just as satisfying.”

His eyes softened and a warm sweet smile spread across his face. “It was easy to tell that she loves you so much,”

“I don’t know what either of us would do without her.” Louis searched his eyes, drumming his fingers against the side of his glass. “And you? Any wild and crazy stories to put mine to shame?”

He shook his head, picking at the corner of his coaster. “No, definitely not, I’m pretty boring. And maybe that’s just it,”

Louis waited for the rest, but he was certain that whatever came next was going to shake him.

Harry pushed his glass around with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve been in two long term relationships, and one of them…I thought he was the one. He was for me anyways. But I wasn’t his.” He shrugged, “Oh well.” His lips quirked into a lopsided smile, “anyways, Niall and Sara are going out, that’s great right?”

Louis silently nodded along in agreement, but he could not get Harry’s words out of his head.

Harry finished off his pint and stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “I should get going, my dogs probably destroyed a least two pairs of shoes by now,” he pulled on the black pea coat, smiling down at Louis. “Thank you for the chat, I’m sure it isn’t your favorite thing to talk about,”

He waved him off, “Oh its old news by now. I’m more than happy to make someone else laugh via my sham of a marriage.”

When Harry laughed his time, his nose scrunched up and Louis though that was adorable too.

He was in trouble.

“Bye Louis.”

“Bye.”

Louis watched him walk away and wondered how anyone could watch Harry leave and never want him to come back.

***

“Hey, M?”

Martha glanced up at Louis from the magazine she was flipping through on her bed, propping herself up on her elbows. “You rang?”

“Since your dad is out on the town, what do you say we hit up Eat Yard?”

Date night must have gotten off to an afternoon start because Niall was already gone by the time Louis had arrived home from his (now) daily stroll. The stroll that was uneventful as Louis decided to pick up some groceries instead. For someone who wasn’t going to date Harry he was pretty much doing the exact opposite of that. He hadn’t stopped thinking about last night’s non-date all day.

Which is why he needed to distract himself with a variety of unhealthy foods and quality goddaughter time.

Martha rolled off the bed, bouncing up to her feet. “Sounds like music to my ears.”

…

They weaved their way through the various food stalls until they reached their destination, feeling the happy vibes of the Friday night dinner crowd, all who were gathering for the monstrosity that was deep fried chicken in a waffle cone. Louis slapped some money in Martha’s hand so she could place their order, and wandered over to the next stall to order himself a beer.

He stood in line, bouncing on his heels to stave off the chill in his bones while he perused the faces in the crowds around him. People watching had always been favorite sport. And then suddenly, there was Harry, looking the perfect picture of fall with the nip in the air creating a rosy glow on his cheeks, that loud laugh catching Louis’ ear from a mile away.

Except that he was not alone. He had the nerve to be laughing and bumping shoulders with a gorgeous dark haired man.

Louis hurriedly handed over his beer money, his eyes back to searching for the two men he wanted to avoid, who of course were now heading towards him.

“Louis?”

Harry and tall, dark and handsome finally reached him, and he almost wished that the earth would open up and swallow him. “That’s me,”

“What are you doing here?”

This was not a hard answer. Louis fumbled with his words anyways. “I, well,”

Harry pointed to his companion in lieu of Louis not being able to remember that he came for dinner. “This is Derek,”

He held out a hand that Louis stared at a beat too long before holding out his own. “Nice to meet you.”

“Louis works at Horan’s,” Harry offered.

A snap of gum from beside him brought him back out of his fog. “I would use the term work very loosely,”

Thank god for this mouthy kid. Louis dropped an arm around her shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “And this is my boss, Martha Horan,”

Derek smiled warmly at her. “It’s a fantastic pub.”

She mumbled a low ‘thanks’, averting his eyes. Louis frowned down at her, about to lecture her for being rude (even though he was being just as bad) when he heard his named called out behind him.

“And that would be our dinner. Super healthy, obviously,”

Harry smirked. “Can’t say I’ve seen chicken in a waffle cone under the health hashtag on Instagram,”

“I literally have no idea what a hashtag is Harry,” Louis started to back away, feeling sheepish now because Harry and Derek probably workout together and drink kale smoothies and generally laugh at carb eating people like him. “Have a good night.”

Harry looked perplexed by his behavior, but luckily, they both waved and turned the other way.

They gathered up their food and plunked themselves down at a wooden picnic table, eating in silence for a few long minutes before Louis grew exasperated with the teen dramatics.

“What’s up with the attitude, missy?”

She silently fumed for a couple seconds longer before gasping out, “I can’t believe Harry’s on a date!”

Honestly, he couldn’t believe it either. Louis raised his eyebrows, spearing a piece of chicken. “…Why? Is the fan club going to be upset?”

“Yes!”

Louis chewed slowly, choosing his words wisely. “Honey, I know you like Harry, but—

“No, Lou, it’s not like that,” she waved a hand up and down at him, eyes wide and comical. “I want him to date you!”

Louis sputtered out a confused laugh, reaching for his beer. “Why? I’m a train wreck,”

She leveled him with a look that only a teenager could pull off; half annoyed and half over it. “No you’re not.”

“Okay, maybe not a full train wreck, but at least a five car pileup.” He popped another piece of chicken in his mouth with a shrug, “Besides, did you see that guy? I don't think I'm his type.”

The patented all-knowing teenage smile came next. “So, you admit that he’s your type? I thought he was just and I quote “nice.”

“I think Harry’s everyone’s type. He’s…”

Louis contemplated this. Harry was gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous. And sweet and funny. And the star of all his fantasies since he laid eyes on. He had missed his glasses tonight. Louis definitely wanted his dick in his mouth while he was wearing them.

But, that was best kept to himself.

“Well, I think he’s kind of wonderful.”

Martha beamed. “He is. And you totally must be his type; all he did was stare at you during dinner the other night,”

Louis rolled his eyes, but he still felt the flush deep in his chest. “He was probably counting my grey hairs too,”

“Or he thinks you’re ruggedly handsome,” she tapped a finger on her lip, “Like George Clooney.”

Louis threw a chip at her head. “He’s like a thousand years old, why is that your go to,”

“He’s always on those Buzzfeed lists and stuff,”

Louis narrowed his eyes, “I think your dad and I need to start monitoring this library club.”

She wiggled her eyebrows. “You’d certainly get to see more of Harry if you did,”

Louis pointed a stern finger at her. “There will be no suggestive eyebrows out of you,”

“Oh come on, I’m only joking.” She sat back, crunching on her waffle cone thoughtfully. “Harry was wearing black skinny jeans while putting books away the other day and I overheard this guy say that it was like a religious experience. Is that a good thing?”

“I think everyone needs to stop going to the library, bloody hell.”

“I will if you go out with him.”

He tossed their garbage out, ignoring her fluttering eyelashes and playfully wrapped her head under his arm, messing up her hair. She pinched him in the side until he screeched, letting her go. She grabbed onto his hand and held it, face falling into a serious look. “Lou, listen. I know I’m just a kid, but I swear it’s like you and Harry were meant to meet. Like, soulmate stuff. Is that dumb?”

Louis couldn’t find it in himself to disagree. He had felt _something_ the first time he had looked into Harry’s eyes.

He squeezed her hand. “It’s not at all.” He pulled her along, wading through the crowd, praying that Harry was long gone. “Since we’re being all mature and stuff for a moment I’ll be honest with you. I’m scared he’ll break my heart,”

“He wouldn’t, Lou.” She looked at him with such sincerity that Louis almost believed it too.

He swung their arms back and forth between them like he used to do when she was toddler. “I don’t want you to grow up to be afraid like your dad and I. Always be brave. In life and in love.”

She stopped them short, spinning them to face each other. “Then why can’t you take your own advice? Harry is _special_. You have to go get him!”

Louis laughed in amazement. “Fourteen going on forty, my god. When did you get so insightful?”

“When Netflix started making rom coms a big thing again.” She poked him in the chest, “Harry is totally your Jake Ryan.”

Louis was endeared. “My baby, referencing Sixteen Candles. But let’s be honest, they totally broke up after high school,”

She snorted. “See? You need to believe in love again. Being cynical is probably why you have eighteen grey hairs,”

“That is a fair point.” He clasped their hands together again, leading her towards a cab. “Alright smartass, let’s go home and you can show me the Netflix way to someone’s heart. “

“Oh my god, yes, wait until you see Peter Kavinsky!”

…

A half hour later he was cuddled up on the couch with his favorite girl, only to find out that everyone’s favorite new internet boyfriend was much too similar to the one he wanted to have in real life.  

Tall. Curls. Charming.

Louis mumbled around a mouthful of popcorn, resigned.

“Dammit. I hear you loud and clear universe.”

***

He rolled out of bed the next day with a spring in his step and his heart feeling light. Maybe there was something to this rom com renaissance after all. He found Niall and Martha down in the pub sharing the early morning duties of wiping down the bar and setting up pint glasses.

He zipped up his hoodie and walked over to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. He curled it around his hands to warm up, looking pointedly at Niall. “You came in late last night,”

Niall pushed past him, causing a spot of coffee to splash onto the freshly cleaned countertop. “I know, sorry about that. We got to talking and lost track of time,”

“Riiiight,”

Niall glared at him, thumbing at Martha, whose headphones and cranked up music made her oblivious to them anyways.

“M said Harry was on a date?”

Louis had to admire the sneaky change of subject tactic. He leaned against the bar shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe,”

“Do you want him to have been?”

“No.”

Niall shuffled over beside him, propping his chin in his palm. “Lou, we’re the exact same person when it comes to this stuff, in that we are complete shite at it. Look at how much time I wasted with Sara. We could have been happy a long time ago.”

Louis hung his head, clutching it in his hands. “I think I’m already in love with him,”

Niall chortled, patting him on the back. “Three days. That sounds about right.”

“I know, I know. I have always been a sucker for love, but this is different. I don’t know what it is, I just…when we were talking the other night and he told me about his past relationships and said he wasn’t the one…I wanted him to be mine.”

Niall whistled. “Holy shit, Lou.” He rubbed his hand up and down encouragingly, “Well, you need to go get him then,”

“That’s what I said!”

They turned to look at Martha, who obviously only just started listening to them due to her Harry radar. “Well? Get moving!”

Louis had to laugh at her sweet little determined face. “I’m not going to march into his workplace and profess my love. I think I can wait for a more appropriate time,”

Unimpressed, she pushed her earphones back on. “That is so not rom com of you.”

Niall straightened up, slinging a cloth over his shoulder. “As much as I’d love to watch a YouTube clip of you embarrassing yourself at Trinity, I think you should probably save it for tonight. The girls want to go dancing at the George, Harry will be there.”

Oh yeah. He could do this. Couldn’t he?

“I’ll probably meet you guys there if that’s okay?”

Niall gave him a suspicious look, but nodded. “Sure.”

Louis grabbed his jacket from behind the bar and darted out the door to his sanctuary of smokes. He grabbed two and put them in his pocket for safekeeping. He was going to need them later when his nerves started to eat away at his insides. He started to walk away before turning back and grabbing another two to slip in his jeans. Just in case. Maybe he slipped one in between his lips too. Sue him.

He lit up and squared his shoulders, mentally going through his closet on the way up to Grafton, where he was going to partake in some costly retail therapy

If he was going to make a fool of himself in front of Harry, he at least wanted to look hot while doing so.

***

“Whoa whoa whoa, Lou, this is a LOOK,”

Sara and Ben clapped as he sauntered up to the table, indicating for him to spin around in a circle. He spread his arms out, doing a twirl in his brand new Saint Laurent. The blood money he spent on this outfit was well worth it in his eyes. That is, if it worked out.

“Thank you ladies, I think I even impressed myself with this one.”

Niall thumbed the lapel of his blazer, “This is velvet,”

Sweet, sweet Niall, always amazed by fashion. “It is.”

He pursed his lips, nodding as if he got it. “That will be great for when you Harry get all sexy and—

Louis clamped a hand on his mouth, smiling at the girl’s surprised faces. “He’s so hard to understand once he starts drinking, in fact, let’s all start drinking a lot more!”

Niall bit his hand and mouthed behind it, “He’s on the dance floor.”

He swallowed hard and smoothed down his blazer for the hundredth time since he slipped into it.

“Go get him.”

Louis nodded and faked the international going to get a drink signal to the girls before heading off to the heavily smoke machined dance floor. He felt his confidence perk up with the hoots and ‘yeah girls’ he got on the way there, which goes to show that black skinny jeans really can be a religious experience.

Finally, he found _his_ religion.

And it was currently shimming up to fucking Derek.

God damn, stupid, tall Derek.

Louis watched as they spun each other around, singing at the top of their lungs. Derek dipped him, causing the silky black shirt Harry was barely wearing to fall open just enough to show off the tiniest glimpse of nipple. He had also poured himself into an insanely tight pair of black jeans and boots that sparkled underneath the disco lights. He looked like a devil and an angel all at the same time.

The ones that were sitting on Louis’ shoulders told him to save himself from embarrassment and leave.

He turned on his heel and made his way back to the table, defeated. Niall’s shock seemed even greater than his own did. “What happened?”

“I’m going home,”

“Lou, hold on,” Niall started to slide out of the booth, while Louis pushed him back in. “I’m fine, I’m just tired. I’ll talk to you later.” He leaned over to kiss the girls on their cheeks, squeezing Sara’s arm, “Have fun.”

He made a quick exit so he could avoid whatever pitying advice they were going to try to placate him with. The club goers passed in a blur as he did his best not look at the scene of the crime that led him to dramatically fleeing a gay bar in his thirties.

Once he was safely out the door he closed his eyes, running a hand over his face. He gave himself a minute to get his composure together when he heard a gravelly, “Louis, wait!”

Louis stopped because somehow, already, he could not ignore Harry. He turned and met his frantic eyes, self-consciously pulling at his t-shirt, hoping he at least looked somewhat decent still.

“Why are you leaving?”

He wrapped his fingers around the lighter in his pocket, itching to distract himself. “I’m tired.”

Harry looked confused, searching his face for the (fake) symptoms. “But you just got here,”

“I’ve been here for a bit. You were, uh, occupied.” Harry stared at him, not seeming to understand the whole Derek of it all. He tried to avoid looking at Harry, that seemed to be how this whole problem started in the first place, but when he did, all he could see was the genuine concern in his eyes. Louis pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.

He took a deep breath, and looked at Harry, ready to pour his heart out on the sidewalk. 

“No, you know what? I’m too old for this. I’m not tired, well actually no I am, but only because I can’t stop thinking about you, not since the night we met. I swear it’s taken up every minute of my day, and I know, it’s only been a week, but I don’t care. I’ve thought about your smile and that goofy laugh you do, and the way your eyes light up when you are droning on about a book you love, and because of all that, I can’t be here with you and watch you with some other guy. I’d like to think I could, but, I’m not that selfless,”

Harry reached out to him, but decided against it, dropping his arm back down to his side. “Louis, we were just dancing,”

Louis held up his hands in protest, “You don’t owe me anything Harry, you’re allowed to do whatever you want. I’m just trying this new thing where I’m honest about my feelings. And it actually felt pretty good, who knew.”

Harry looked mildly annoyed now, and Louis bet he looked just like this (insanely hot) while being teased in bed, which was something Louis could explore for hours. He didn’t need to be _that_ honest though. “Am I allowed to speak?” Louis shivered. Insanely. _Hot_. He nodded for him to proceed. “Thank you. If you had let me finish I would have concluded with the fact that we’re just friends,” he was now close enough that his fingers brushed the top of Louis’ hand. “And that I’m only here because I knew you’d be here too,”

Louis’ eyebrows folded in confusion. “But you were with him last night,”

The sides of Harry’s lips twitched up. “Yes, because we are _friends_. We work together. That’s all.”

“I’ve never grinded with any of my coworkers,” he grumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes, gently grasping the front of Louis’ jacket. “You work with Niall,”

“In that case, I probably have.”

Now Harry was there in his space, very amused by this declaration. “He’s also straight,”

Louis looked at him, genuinely surprised now. “Seriously?”

“Surprisingly enough, they are not all terrible.”

Louis reached up to tuck a stray curl back into place, drawing his finger through a dimple on the way back down. “Listen, all I’m saying is that you should ask him about any and all secret marriages, you never know these days,”

Harry slid his hands into his jacket, warm fingerprints dipping low on Louis’ waist. “I don’t want to talk about Derek anymore,” he bit his lip, the tiniest shy smile on his lips. “And I don’t have a goofy laugh,”

“You do. And I love it.”

Harry flushed. He leaned his head down, voice low, breath fluttering against Louis’s cheek. “I wanted to kiss you so badly at Coppers. My made up plan really back fired on me,”

Louis smacked a hand against his chest, “What! There was no list?”

“There was not.”

Louis smoothed his hands up the silky material, threading his fingers around the back of Harry’s neck. “Can I kiss you now?”

Harry barely gave a nod, before leaning in to bridge the gap between their lips. When they finally touched, Louis knew that what he felt wasn’t only real.

It was electric.

Harry smelt like a fresh spring day, tasted like peppermint, and with every touch of their lips he filled up a space in Louis’ empty heart.

He kissed him and kissed him until he remembered that they were on the sidewalk outside of a bar and yes, people were definitely cheering them on. They broke apart and he waved at their audience, moving Harry to a quieter space down the block.

Louis leaned against the side of a building, the brick hard and cold through the smooth velvet of his blazer and looked at Harry with the same damn heart eyes everyone else did. “You know I always thought it was about me not being ready, that I was scared to trust someone again. But that isn’t it at all. I think I’ve just been waiting for you.”

Harry groaned, pulling him into a crushing hug, burying his face in his neck. “If you don’t stop with the romantic declarations I’m going to be in love with you by the end of the night,”

“That was kind of my plan.”

Harry entwined their fingers, nodding behind him, “Do you want to get a drink?”

“Yes. Immediately.”

…

Again they found themselves in the moody lighting of the Long Hall, except this time there were long lingering stares and fingertips tracing along the inseams of jeans.

Harry squeezed his hand higher up Louis’ thigh, slowly licking the creamy foam of the pint off his lips. Louis followed the movement, remembering how much he wanted to do to Harry with his own tongue.

“Harry—do you want—

“ _Yes_.”

…

They practically ran to Louis’ place, trying to act casual when they hurried past Paulie, as if he was somehow oblivious to the fact that they were going to be naked in about ten seconds. It was possible the entire pub knew.

Louis tore off his blazer as soon as they shut the door, tossing it towards the couch. He fumbled with Harry’s belt buckle, mumbling into his mouth, “Fuck you are so hot, and I am about to live out my very vivid librarian fantasy,”

Harry panted, wrangling Louis’ shirt off his shoulders. “Please, tell me details, I am all about the details,”

He bit Harry’s lip, pushing him against the door and dropped to his knees. “It involves you in your glasses and you very naked on a pile of books and—

Harry gasped as Louis’ slide his tongue around the tip of his dick, scrunching his eyes closed, “Please don’t fuck me on a pile of books, my back is a mess,”

Louis popped off with a laugh, “And here I thought I was the old one.” He curled his fingers around him and started to glide up and down ever so slowly. “Okay, well I’m also interested in having my tongue deep inside you while you recite me some Keats,”

Harry moaned, thighs shaking with anticipation of something Louis was only just talking about doing.

He was a goner.

“Oh my god, fuck me sideways,”

“I can work that in as well, baby.”

…

“HOLY SHIT!”

Harry and Louis jolted up off the couch, grabbing the blanket to cover their chests.

“Martha! What are you doing home? I thought you were staying at Andy’s?”

She tiptoed closer towards her room, eyes desperately searching for anything to look at but them. “She wasn’t feeling well so I told her I could go home, and here I am, so, I’ll just, you know, go to my room. You never saw me and I never saw you, and I will never tell dad, I promise, okay bye!”

With that, she made a mad dash for the room and quickly shut the door behind her. Harry and Louis looked at each other in stunned shock, which soon dissolved into hysterical laughter when they heard the high-pitched scream coming from Martha’s room.

“I guess the fan club has something to celebrate.”

Harry dropped his head onto his shoulder, laughing harder. “Shut up,”

“I’m serious Harry, they were rooting for us.”

Harry drew back up, learning in for a soft kiss. “I think we’re worth rooting for.”

Louis whispered into his ear, the curls tickling his nose, “Me too.”

He passed Harry another blanket, wrapping himself up in the one that was barely covering them as he searched around for their clothes. “We should take this to my room. I hope she wasn’t too traumatized,”

Harry threw him his jeans, folding up his own neatly. “The luck of the Irish was very much on our side, because if she showed up ten minutes earlier you would have been paying for some very pricey therapy.”

“Yeah I know, my own,” Harry laughed, tossing his t-shirt at his face. “Come on, the bed’s this way.”

They settled into Louis’ room, Harry octopussing his long limbs around Louis’ torso once they got under the sheets. He flicked his eyes up at him, biting his bottom lip. “So now that we’ve chilled, should we Netflix?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Louis passed him the remote, leaning back into his pillow with a satisfied sigh. Harry scrolled through the list of movies, landing on a familiar spot. “There’s so many good rom coms out now,”

“So I’ve heard,”

A knowing smile spread across Harry’s face. “Peter,”

“Kavinsky. He’s everyone’s guy.”

Harry angled his head in a way that said kiss me. Louis had to oblige.

He leaned down, smiling into his mouth, kissing him slow and deep. Harry hummed with pleasure mumbling in between kisses,

“I’m more of a Jake Ryan.”

 

…

 

Maybe Martha was onto something with her soulmate theory after all.


End file.
